Alphabet Soup - H
by SMK KMS
Summary: Just a few Amanda rambles and Lee thoughts. Brought to you by the letter H.


Disclaimers: The characters in this story are copyrighted by Warner Brothers and Shoot The Moon Productions. I make no money from these characters; I simply like to share their world for a short time.

A/N Just a little glimpse into Lee's and Amanda's thoughts on their lives and relationship. Hope you enjoy! (Constructive reviews are always welcome.) A special thanks to Bruce Boxleitner and Kate Jackson—as well as the rest of the cast—for portraying these characters so wonderfully.

 _ **Hospital**_. At one time, she had considered becoming a nurse. That was when she was little, though. She enjoyed pretending LoisAnn had broken her arm, or her leg, or needed stitches, or . . . the list went on and on. As she got older, however, she realized that nursing was a lot of hard work and required much more dedication than she thought she would be willing to give. After all, it was her dream to marry and raise a family—both her husband and her children would require much of her attention. She did truly admire those who had chosen the profession, however. That's why she volunteered as a Bedside BlueBell; it allowed her to help those dedicated nurses and other hospital staff. It was the least she could do!

That, and help her Junior Trailblazer troop earn their first aid badges. She couldn't even begin to count the times she had her arms, legs, and head bandaged by the boys in her troop. But if it helped them earn the badge, then she was willing to make the sacrifice.

Once she joined the Agency, however, her view of hospitals changed a little. She started seeing them from the perspective of the patients. Actually one patient in particular. He did not like hospitals, and that was putting it mildly! She was just glad to do whatever she could to make his stays within the hospital walls a little more comfortable . . . and make the nurses' and doctors' jobs just a little easier by calming the nervous Scarecrow.

She liked to think of it as her little contribution to the healthcare profession.

 _ **Hospital**_. The mere word sent shivers up and down his spine. He hated those places. They were always telling you that you couldn't get out of bed, you couldn't go to the bathroom by yourself, you couldn't . . . you couldn't . . . you couldn't . . . But they could do anything they wanted to you! Like use you for a pin cushion—he hated needles! They were always poking and prodding you—many times in some very delicate, sensitive places. And sleep . . . he thought hospitals were supposed to be a place where you could rest. Boy was that concept way off base. They had to be some of the noisiest places on earth. Then, if you did manage to nod off, they would wake you up to see if you wanted a sleeping pill. Geeeeesh!

When he thought about it long and hard enough, however, he realized there was another reason why he hated hospitals so. That's where his parents had died. He had been taken to the hospital the night of the accident—that was before anyone realized that both were dead. The room where he and his elderly neighbor/babysitter had waited was dreary and smelled of disinfectant. When the doctor had come out to talk to them, he just shook his head. In that instant, even his five-year-old self had known that his life had changed forever.

His recent hospitals stays hadn't actually been that bad, however. He couldn't quite figure out why his attitude had changed.

Hmmm . . . Could it be that Amanda was usually there when he woke up?

 **Horse**. A . . . A . . . A . . . Achoo! She couldn't even think about a horse without sneezing. When Princess Penny had invited her to the ranch a few years ago, she had purchased every allergy pill at the pharmacy. Even then she still had a few instances of watery eyes—and a few sneezing spells. And that beautiful white horse that had almost killed her . . . she didn't think she would ever ride another horse ever again!

But of course the next summer her boys talked her into letting them take a few riding lessons at a stable on the outskirts of Arlington. She figured that if she stayed in the car-with the windows up and the air conditioning running—that she would be fine. Wrong . . . she swore that even the sight of a horse sent her allergies into overdrive.

She should be happy. That was her only known allergy. And the boys had apparently not inherited it from her—thank goodness.

She did dream, on occasion, of a knight coming to her rescue astride a beautiful white horse. Funny . . . the dream didn't set off her allergies, even though the horse looked a little like the one that she had ridden that weekend at Penny's. The knight also looked a lot like Lee.

She didn't mind the thought of that one bit!

 _ **Horse**_. He just loved horses. When his uncle had been stationed in Germany, he had permitted Lee to have a little roan mare that they boarded at one of the local farms. He had loved that mare; he was heartbroken when the Colonel's transfer came that next fall and he had to leave the mare behind.

How he wished he had more chances to ride. That weekend at the ranch with the Prince and Princess had been an excellent opportunity . . . that is until a certain brunette was almost killed by the Princess's white stallion.

Maybe he could ask Billy for some time off and take a short vacation to the old west? Maybe play 'cowboy' for a short time? Nah . . . Billy'd never give him the time off.

Maybe there would be a case that would take him out west to 'horse country'? Then again, probably not. He didn't know of any KGB agents with a 'hankerin' for being chased by the Scarecrow on horseback.

Hmmm . . . maybe he didn't want to go to 'horse country' after all. Not if it meant going without his favorite partner. After all, he certainly couldn't take her with him—not with her allergies!

 _ **Hand**_. Most parents marked the growth of their children with little marks on a doorframe indicating their height on their birthday. It certainly showed their progress and growth from year to year. But what happened to all those wonderful little marks when the family moved? They were lost!

She had decided, instead, to keep a record of her sons' growth by tracing their hands in a journal on each of their birthdays. Some years there was tremendous growth. Others, not so much. But there was always a progression. And she could tell by the current size of their hands that they weren't her little boys anymore. Phillip's hand was almost the same size as hers—and Jaime's wasn't all that much smaller. Still . . . they had a long way to go to reach the size of their father's.

Lee's hand . . . now that was another story. His hands were extra large, his fingers long and strong. Her own hands felt so small and fragile in comparison. She loved the feel of his big hand holding her small one. Or the feel of his hand at the her back when he 'ushered' her into a room. Or the feel of his hand on her arm when he was looking into her eyes. Or the feel of his hand on her chin tilting it up so he could look into her eyes.

Her thoughts were running away with her now. Time to think about something other than hands.

 _ **Hand**_. He certainly had his share of winning hands in last night's poker game. Poor Billy . . . poor Beaman . . . poor Fielder . . . poor Leatherneck. He didn't use the term 'poor' to denote any sympathy for them, mind you. He was using it in the literal sense, as he had cleaned out their wallets. It was so easy, too. All he had to do was put on his 'agent' face. Leatherneck had never been a field agent. And Beaman and Fielder were, well, Beaman and Fielder. Now Billy was a little bit harder to fool. But he had been out of the field for quite a while, and his skills were just a tad rusty!

He wondered if Amanda played poker? He was willing to bet she would be good at it. She had a great 'agent' face . . . when she wanted to use it. At other times, her face was like an open book—way too easy to read. He could just picture her seated around the poker table with the rest of the guys, cards held in her delicate hands . . .

Whooooo there, Stetson, slow down a minute. How did his thoughts of last night's poker game wind up with thoughts of Amanda's hands?

Hmmm . . . maybe he had better stick to playing poker with just the guys. Having Amanda and her delicate hands there might prove to be too distracting!

 _ **Happy**_. Was she happy? You bet! She had two wonderful sons, a wonderful mother that was helping her raise them, and a pretty terrific ex-all things considered. She had broken up with Dean, which added to her happiness.

Her work with the PTA, as well as several charities, made her happy. So did coaching the Bombers.

What about her job with IFF? Did that make her happy?

Helping to make the world a better/safer place for Phillip and Jaime . . . now that made her happy. Working with Mr. Melrose added to the happiness. Working with Francine . . . It was hard to believe, but Francine added to her happiness too. She could probably count on one hand the number of people that weren't immediately drawn to her, and Francine was #1 on that list. They didn't always see eye-to-eye, but she enjoyed the challenge Francine presented. Solving challenges made her happy.

Maybe that was why she was so happy. Each new case was a new challenge to solve. But the biggest puzzle of all stood well over six foot and had the most incredible hazel eyes she had ever seen.

She thought solving that puzzle would make her happiest of all!

 _ **Happy**_. Was he happy? Now that was a loaded question if he ever heard one. Sure, he really liked his job—at least most aspects of it. (He could do without being shot at, drugged, etc.; but those things came with the territory.) He had a great apartment, even if he did need to change locations every year due to the secretive nature of his job. He could even afford some of the finer things in life, thanks to a small trust fund that his parents had left him—payable when he reached age 25. Between that and his salary, he was actually pretty well off!

He drove a beautiful silver Corvette—fastest on the track the last time he had visited with Leatherneck. He did miss his '63 Porsche, but to be honest, the 'Vette handled better!

He certainly never wanted for female companionship. His four 'little black books' were testament to that.

But was he happy? He really liked working for Billy; he was the 'father' he never had. And Francine wasn't too bad either. Actually, she was pretty great, but he'd never tell her that! Dr. Smyth was a different story, but then no one got along with him. He didn't think Smyth even liked himself!

But was he happy? Well . . . he certainly seemed to be a lot happier lately.

Hmmm . . . could it have anything to do with his new partner?

 _ **Heart**_. Hers had been broken a few times. The first was when her father had died unexpectedly of a heart attack when she was in college. But Joe had been there for her, to help fill the void. The second was when her marriage to Joe ended in divorce. Sure, she was upset when he left for Africa the first time. Each subsequent departure, however, got easier and easier. She guessed that was how she knew things were over between them. Her heart didn't hurt anymore. The day the divorce was final, though, was a different story. It was the thought of her dream of a husband and family being shattered that made her heart shatter too.

She had spent the next several years piecing her heart back together. She was afraid to let anyone besides her mother and boys in. Dean had begun to creep in, but he had never made it past the outer layer. Her heart just wasn't in it.

But now she found her heart being taken over by an enigma. Most times he went by the name of Scarecrow and was the consummate intelligence agent—professional, detached, dedicated, and kick-ass . . . definitely kick-ass!

There were times—more and more of them recently—that she caught glimpses of the man beneath the straw. That man was the one that was taking over her heart, and she knew that he would soon penetrate it to its core. If he, too, shattered it . . . But she couldn't allow herself to think that way. Lee would never do that to her! She felt the absolute truth of that statement deep down in her heart!

 _ **Heart**_. What was it that the Scarecrow was missing . . . was it a heart? No, that was the Tinman. There were times, though, that he felt like his heart wasn't there. Maybe it was because it had been hurt so much. It felt like it had been ripped out when his parents died . . . when Dorothy died . . . when Eric died . . . He had certainly seen enough death to last a lifetime.

The more he thought about all those deaths, the more it felt like his heart had not only been ripped out—it had been stomped on, torn up, and scattered to the wind.

Oh, he knew differently. He had to have a heart. It wasn't physically possible to live without one. He also knew he had a heart because it hurt so much. How it continued to beat was beyond him.

He had vowed a long time ago to never let anyone else get too close to him . . . to never give his heart to anyone . . . ever again!

But he had given a _package_ away. To a beautiful woman with the most incredible brown eyes he had ever seen. Every day since, he had been giving little pieces of his heart away too-to that same woman.

Hmmm . . . before long she would have his whole heart, if she didn't already. And that was just fine with him. He knew, deep down, that she would never break it!


End file.
